


darling you're the one i want (in paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams)

by lady_romanov



Series: Femslash February 2020 [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Femslash February, Fluff and Smut, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22662175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_romanov/pseuds/lady_romanov
Summary: Sansa, Margaery, and an early morning.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell
Series: Femslash February 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630441
Comments: 17
Kudos: 137





	darling you're the one i want (in paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still new to writing smut, so I hope this reads well. I love these two to pieces, and naturally my first Sansaery (but hopefully not last!) fic ever would turn out to be complete and utter smutty smut. Enjoy, I guess?
> 
> Title from Paper Rings by Taylor Swift, because I'm a basic bitch.

Sansa wakes up to a tongue in her ear and a hand sliding into his panties.

“Marge,” she murmurs, eyes still closed. “It’s too early for sex,” she says, even though she has to bite her bottom lip to stifle a moan as Margaery’s deft fingers stroke up and down along the seam between her thighs and cunt. 

“Mmm,” Margaery hums, her wicked tongue finding the sensitive spot behind Sansa’s ear and making her shiver. “It’s _never_ too early for sex.”

Sansa’s breath hitches as Margaery dips a finger through her folds, light and teasing, gliding easily through her slick – her brain might be tired but her body is not, and Sansa can’t help but push her body back against Margaery’s where her girlfriend is spooning her from behind. “I have to get up early,” she protests weakly, even as she cants his hips up into Margaery’s touch, “Tyrion –”

“Tyrion,” Margaery interrupts, “regularly reschedules meetings so he can fuck his secretary. I think you’ve earned the right to be a little late because you’re very beautiful girlfriend wants to make you scream before breakfast.” She punctuates her words by sliding her unoccupied hand up Sansa’s shirt to cup her bare breast while her other hand moves upward so she can glide her thumb across Sansa’s throbbing clit, sharp and sudden the way she likes it.

Her whole body jerks, a keening cry tearing out of her throat as her eyes fly open; it’s still dark, not quite dawn, but there’s enough light from the nightlight in the bathroom (installed a few weeks after they moved in because they both got tired of tripping in the middle of the night) to see by, and Margaery’s hair is falling around her like a curtain as her girlfriend rolls them over so Sansa is between Margaery’s legs, leaning back against her chest as Marge reclines against the headboard. Sansa groans once they finally still and Margaery’s fingers return to flicking and teasing her clit, her whole body aflame as all her blood rushes south.

“Yes?” Margaery murmurs against her neck, the hand on her breast squeezing gently.

Fuck it. “ _Yes,_ ” Sansa rasps, hips jerking in time with Margaery’s hand. She lets her head fall back against Margaery’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as she moans out her girlfriend’s name.

“Hmm,” Margaery hums against her throat, grazing her teeth against her sleep-warm skin, “do you like that, my lovely Sansa? You like my fingers on your clit? My hand on your perfect little tit?”

Sansa just moans wordlessly in response, gasping as Margaery slides two fingers inside of her while her other hand plucks and twists her nipple and her thumb circles her clit in maddeningly slow movements. She groans as Margaery’s fingers start to thrust in and out of her; the angle’s not great, the position of their bodies not allowing for more than shallow little thrusts, but it’s perfect still as every movement of Margaery’s hand sends jolts of pleasure through her whole body. She’s painfully close already, but it feels so good she doesn’t want to come.

“ _Marge,”_ she whines, clenching around Margaery’s fingers, her thighs starting to shake as she nears her peak; Margaery’s thumb speeds up against her clit and Sansa _quakes._

Margaery nips her neck again, the barest hint of teeth making pleasure-pain bloom in Sansa’s gut as she spirals higher and higher. “My Sansa,” she whispers, “oh my lovely, you feel so good, your cunt is so hot and wet and sweet. I bet it would taste so good right now,” she says, the words making Sansa clench tighter around her fingers, so wet she knows she’s making the sheets a mess but she couldn’t care less as Margaery’s hand squeezes and massage her breasts, “I wish I could get my tongue inside of you and lick you out until you’re screaming for me. Gods, I love your cunt.”

Sansa sobs as her body seems to still right at the cusp of her release, her skin on fire and all her muscles trembling with need as Margaery’s fingers curl and stroke inside of her. 

“Marge -” she chokes out, “Margaery, fuck, _please,_ oh _gods._ ” 

“Come on, Sansa,” Margaery says, “come for me, lovely girl.”

Sansa falls apart, heat tearing through her as she shakes and cries out and throbs around Margaery’s fingers, her orgasm seeming to last a small eternity as she gasps and trembles in the dark. 

“Fuck,” she says when she finally comes down, Margaery’s fingers finally pulling away from her oversensitive clit long enough to let her think. “Fuck, Marge, you make me feel so good,” she tells her girlfriend, twisting in her arms so she can kiss her, plunging her tongue in Margaery’s mouth to taste her; she tastes faintly like peppermint toothpaste and slightly sour morning breath, and Sansa moans into her mouth. “Wanna make you feel good, too,” she mumbles against Margaery’s mouth, nipping at her plush lower lip and reaching a hand behind her head to tangle in Marge’s soft hair, tangled and knotted from sleep.

She pulls away finally and moves, turning over until they’re chest to chest and then sliding down, pushing the sheets further down the bed until she’s half-kneeling, half-laying between the v of Margaery’s legs. 

“Sansa,” Margaery murmurs, soft and reverent as Sansa hooks her thumbs into Margaery’s pink cotton bed shorts and pulls them down her legs, pulling away only enough to slide them off of Margaery completely and toss them to the floor before she rolls back and starts sucking hot, open-mouthed kisses along Margaery’s inner thigh. “My Sansa.”

Sansa only hums, mouth occupied as she traces her tongue up Margaery’s thigh until she reaches the delicate pink folds of her cunt, already glistening in the low light with arousal. Margaery’s breath hitches as Sansa uses her fingers to part her folds, pressing light, chaste kisses against her labia before leaning in a licking a broad stripe up Margaery’s center.

“ _Oh,_ ” Margaery gasps, legs squeezing around Sansa’s head, her heels digging into her back as Sansa laps at her cunt, moaning as the taste of her fills her mouth. “Oh, _Sansa._ ”

Sansa loves all kinds of sex with Margaery, but she’ll admit that this is her favorite, getting her tongue inside of Margaery’s sweet, dripping pussy as Margaery moans and sighs, running her fingers through Sansa’s hair; she likes the way the rest of the world disappears until only thing in the world that exists is Margaery’s taste and Margaery’s heat and Margaery’s thighs trembling where they rest on top of her shoulders. She’s desperate for it, fucking _greedy_ for it, fucking her tongue in and out of Margaery’s cunt and nosing at her clit until Margaery starts to shake.

She slides her mouth up and closes her lips around Margaery’s swollen clit and sucks, lashing her tongue against the underside of the little bundle of nerves, and Margaery cries out loud and long as she comes, grinding against Sansa’s face until her chin is dripping with her slick. She keeps her mouth on Margaery’s clit, drawing out her orgasm until she’s keening with it, her back arched off of the bed and her head thrown back, her fingers tightening in Sansa’s hair, making Sansa moan with her.

Margaery finally pushes her away when it gets to be too much, and Sansa crawls up her body to lay on top of her, both of their chests heaving. Margaery uses the hand that’s still in her hair to pull her down for a kiss, her taste mingling in both their mouths. 

“Call in sick,” Margaery murmurs into her mouth. “Stay home and stay in bed with me.”

“Marge...” Sansa says, but she still can’t stop herself from leaning down to kiss Margaery’s neck, sliding her tongue across the sweat-slick column of her throat as Margaery sighs with pleasure.

“C’mon,” Margaery says. “When’s the last time we spent a whole day in bed?”

Sansa just kisses her again, winding her fingers into Margaery’s long hair and tangling their legs together, moaning at the friction against her clit as her thigh presses against her center. “I’m supposed to help Tyrion plan the press tour,” she says breathlessly, grinding their cunts together until she can feel Margaery’s wetness even through her panties.

“Fuck Tyrion,” Margaery says, kissing her in between words. “Call in sick so you can stay home and fuck _me._ ” She furthers her argument by reaching between them and hooking her fingers into Sansa’s panties and pulls them down so she can press their bare cunts together, and Sansa chokes back a shout. “Sansa,” Margaery purrs. “My lovely, lovely girl.”

“Fuck,” she moans, and reaches for her phone.

**Author's Note:**

> Tyrion's super annoyed that he has to work on the press release for his new book by himself until Sansa comes in the next day all sheepish and covered in hickeys, and then he just spends like the next week smirking at her.
> 
> (Would anyone be interested in a Sansaery Devil Wears Prada au?)


End file.
